


Most Definitely NOT A Team Bonding Activity.

by Angenou



Series: Better Together [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oblivious Donut, Porn With Plot, dorks in denial, it's hella gay guys, it's not gay if they don't touch right?, just admit you're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6203902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angenou/pseuds/Angenou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons doesn't know how to relax, and Grif provides balance. Sarge is more understanding than expected, and Donut doesn't quite get it. They'd be the types to be an item but refuse to talk to each other about it, while defending their relationship from outsiders without quite understanding why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Likely Accident

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW? I'm not sure if I got the rating right. Please let me know if I messed up. Also, constructive criticisms are welcome! This is my first real fic, I hope you enjoy it! There are 4 parts to this, and I am crap at editing, so I figured I'd just post each part as I finish editing them. There is something of a plot if you squint at it just right, with all four parts present. I think. 
> 
> I'll probably panic and edit this first part again as well later on. I may edit depending on feedback as well. I really hope this is as good as it is to me.

Private Richard Simmons wandered red base absently, lost in his thoughts. They’d just received a supply drop and he and Grif were supposed to be working together to take inventory and sort out normal supplies from anything new and unusual that Sarge could use for his robotics projects. That lazy, orange armored bastard had a knack for finding places to nap in this tiny boxed canyon though, and Simmons simply hadn’t learned how to find him reliably yet. His skill at stealth when he wanted to sleep or skive off of chores would have been admirable, put to nearly any other more productive use. As it was, his “stealth” was the bane of Simmons’ existence.

He’d wandered pretty deeply into the base by now, having given up looking methodically, he was relying heavily on intuition and wherever his feet took him as he reflected on his lot in life. His feet ended up taking him to the storage room, some part of him probably figured he wouldn’t get much help anyway and he might as well start on his own. As he got closer he began to notice a muffled voice coming from the very storage closet he was already bound for. That voice was muted and quiet, but the rest of the base was quieter. Only a few steps away now he could no longer deny that the voice was moaning, and that it belonged to one Dexter Grif. Further, it sounded kind of hot, and fuck no. Why were his fingers already gripping the door handle? Further, why were his feet no longer listening to reason and stopping like five feet back?

Using the handle was not strictly necessary, the door was open anyway. What a careless idiot. What did he think would have happened had it been Sarge instead of Simmons who found him? Knowing Grif he hadn’t thought it out and this was the result of even more laziness. Laziness stripped nude and stretched out on top of a crate with his shoulders leaned up against the nearest wall and how does that thin layer of chub looks so sexy on his abs and his thighs? There were honestly not enough supply drops to support that much extra fat on him, so some lean muscle was barely visible just under his tubbiness. Somewhere along way to Simmons’ life careening out of control the base had become intolerably warm. He had somehow lost his helmet and in a daze he undid the armor around his midsection. Unable to tear his eyes away from the weirdly hot train wreck that was Grif stroking himself firmly but indulgently, Simmons leaned slowly back against the door. It finally clicked shut just as Simmons’ hand found a firm grip around his cock. 

At this Grif finally noticed he had company and looked up to see Simmons flush faced and fisting his cock distractedly. Simmons was in a state, his mouth hanging open a little, his bottom lip dragged into his mouth by tentative bite as his breath caught in his throat and fear made its way into his eyes, already wide and with pupils blown out to full flower. The laziest, smuggest grin that had ever crawled onto a man’s face met Simmons and a low grumbled voice addressed him. “Enjoying the view?”

Simmons faltered a moment. He had for some reason not expected to be spoken to, and especially not so suddenly. Reflexively his grip tightened and his arm jerked quite suddenly. He threw his head back and groaned in response. Graceless? Perhaps, but it was as good a reply as any. Though it was entirely not how he had meant to respond, it did mean that he now didn’t have to think up an actual explanation or put forth the effort to give said explanation coherently. He already knew it wouldn’t really matter to Grif that he’d come here to do his job instead of beat off, he was here and he was hard and leaking copious amounts of precum, and far too much blood had flowed away from the head on his shoulders for it to really matter what he had originally planned on doing in this room.

Grif chuckled and sighed, but kept his gaze trained on Simmons handful of himself. Almost without realizing it, he began pumping himself faster, and looked up along the line of Simmons’ trim form to his face and found that his friends eyes were glazed over and focused entirely on his own dick. A short burst of a slow but decidedly loud groan left his lips and the lusty, leering smile on Simmons’ face made his skin start to tingle and his blood warmed so much that his lungs began to feel too full. Grif panted for breath, but it sounded like a losing battle, his breath coming faster and faster until he didn’t even notice that Simmons was as out of breath and rosy cheeked as was.

Grif could feel his gut clench, and he came first with a long, loud sigh. As Simmons watched Grif lose it, he climaxed at the sight of it with shaky breath, keening, high-pitched and urgent, he spilled cum all over himself in several spurts.

Grif’s head is still resting against the wall, he threw it back as he came and honestly afterglow is still pretty good even when it’s your own hand. Grif is mistaken for lazy a lot, but he knows how to enjoy the small things, how to savor the moments most people miss. When you raise your own kid sister, as a kid yourself, you learn quickly that it’s the little things that really leave the biggest impacts later on. And right now? Right now Sarge could barge in screaming and he’d still refuse to lift his head or open his eyes, because he’s in this moment of afterglow, and the warmth is fading into the stupid wood of the crate he’s seated on, but his skin is still tingling and his lungs are still settling down to a rational and usable size again, his heartbeat is slowing down to a reasonable pace again and everything is just calm. Calm like this is rare, so you can fuck off if you think he’s going to ruin it by talking or moving. Grif is a connoisseur of rare and fine moments of calm and joy and all the best things that the average man misses out on. Simmons could learn a lot from him in this moment.

Simmons crashes back to reality and reason and the anxiety is instant. The calm is swept from him almost as soon as it settles in his bones, calm is foreign and he begins sputtering. “I came back here with an actual purpose you know. I’m sure even you had to notice how new all these crates are, I intended to take inventory. You’re going to have to move your fat ass so that I can get my work done, you know.” He doesn’t ask for help like he’d intended to. He finishes strongly with a false bravado of smug satisfaction in knowing that he is Useful. He is Valuable, and his superior will Value his work ethic and productive contributions to the base. He sees Grif not moving a single nanometer and a serene smile plastered over his face and a muscle in his eyelid twitches involuntarily. He knows it’s folly to wait for Grif to actually respond in any helpful way, so he suits himself back up properly after brief cleanup and actually begins going through the supplies and taking inventory.

“Next time, try to actually get comfortable when we do this so I don’t have to work through the distraction of wondering how the hell you manage to successfully beat off with all that armor still on. Oh, and thanks for getting the door, I guess. I was distracted or some shit and forgot. That could have been bad.”

Grif is so cavalier about this, it’s absurd. Next time? What the fuck does he mean, “next time” ? Does he really mean for there to be a next time? Is this a thing they’re going to keep doing together? Isn’t that a little, well… A glance to the other side of the room breaks his train of thoughts from the rails on the spot.

Holy shit. Grif is actually cleaned up and re-armored and he’s actually helping. Maybe if this is the result, it might not hurt to do this again. And when did that knot in his shoulders go away? Weird. Oh well, best get to work before Sarge wonders what’s taking so long.


	2. Stupid fucking kids.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next time happens. Short but sweet.

“Alright man, you’re stressing _me_ out right now. You need to chill. do some nice counting and list editing I think. I’ll even do us all a favor and help you with it. Do inventory. I’m pretty sure your spine is gonna snap here soon if you try to stand any straighter.” It was impossible for Grif to stop himself from thinking that Simmons’ temper is probably about to snap as well, but he was smart enough not to say it aloud. The guy was an uptight nerd, but he wasn’t about to find out what that might mean for his aim. Even if Sarge was clearly fed up with Simmons hissy fits too, they all knew he’d never pass up a chance to see someone take potshots at Grif with whatever guns might be on hand.

“Son, the heat is probably gettin’ to ya. Follow the yellow numbnuts over there into the base and get something cool to drink and do some shit that won’t get your panties twisted any tighter. I’ll shoot you both if I don’t hear you scoot in the next five seconds.” Sarge was a reasonable man, but his men knew better than to test him.

Even if he didn’t agree with Sarge, he wasn’t about to argue either, so Simmons turned to follow a grumbling Grif into the cool shadows of their base. Echoes of something about why orange was such a hard color to understand bounced off of the cement along with air that got cooler with literally every step further into the building.

Huffing to himself inside his helmet was useless, but it made him feel better about being ganged up on by his C.O. as well as the only other jerk here who was supposed to be his equal. He had to admit that they might have been right about the heat though when he could feel his shoulders falling away from where they’d been clenched up to his neck as the comparative chill of the base sunk into his skin through his suit. Grif had better actually help out though. He was not in the mood to abide seeing Grif shirk something he offered to do without prompting. He could already see it, despite the fact that the very man he was abusing in his head had already made it to the storage room where the supply drop had been carted off to earlier and found his way inside.

When Simmons came upon the door he finally began to take note of some tension in the air that was not of his own creation and began to wonder if maybe he wasn’t the only one wound up too tight today. Grif’s entire posture looked coiled up in a way that didn’t seem like it should be possible given the bulk of their armor. As soon as Simmons was entirely through the doorway Grif snapped it shut and began to shuck his armor carelessly, letting pieces clatter loudly to the floor. Simmons cocked his head to the side and sighed deeply, but he began to remove his own armor and place it in an orderly stack he’d have no trouble putting back together later. This thing was still weird, but he really had been relaxed for a few days last time.

Last time, that was a thought he’d been avoiding. Grif had been true to his word, he seemed happy enough that Simmons was making himself more comfortable, and this was a “next time” if he’d ever seen one.

Actually, Grif seemed really happy that Simmons was disrobing. The leer directed at him right now sent a thrill down his spine and goosebumps up and down his newly bare arms. He would start to feel more self-conscious about this, he really would, but he could see the way Grif grew thicker and harder just watching him undress and it was enough to make the whole room suffocating and hot to him in a way that the ever-present sun outside couldn’t hold a candle to. He began to fist his cock before Grif could bring himself to even start to reach for his own turgid length. Seeing the way that Grif had to lean back and breathe deeply, trying to reign himself in from the heavy desire coursing through his skin sent a shudder through Simmons, and a decidedly provocative moan fell off of his lips.

Grif was not one to be outdone though, he began pumping his own dick with a passionate firmness that almost sparked an envy that Simmons would deny feeling through to his dying day. He followed through his enthusiastic performance with the sluttiest moans that Simmons had ever had the pleasure to hear. Simmons quickly lost pace at this point. Did Grif not care about getting caught? The heat from earlier seeped even more deeply now, clouding his lungs and he could almost choke on the way everything started to feel too tight all of a sudden. The guy had been sly enough in how to get them alone together, but between how loudly he’d dropped his armor around the room to the porno soundtrack he could record from right now, Grif didn’t seem too bothered about who knew what they were up to right now.

Grif could see the way Simmons got a little closer to losing it every time he moaned. He wasn’t a selfish lover, even if they were on opposing sides of the room again. He could still help his partner get off without even touching him, and fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest shit ever you could just fuck directly off. Grif had lost any semblance of a rhythm by now, he panted shamelessly and felt the pool of heat in his belly begin to burn hotter and coil tighter in his groin until Simmons began to cum in spurting ropes onto his own torso. One last long, loud groan and he was shuddering through his own orgasm. So caught up in bliss as they both were, neither of them noticed the sound of heavy boots stalking away as quickly as they’d come near.

Sarge shook his head to himself, but ever the pragmatist, he realized this would mean that those insufferable brats would be a little less irritating to be around for a few days again. He couldn’t really find it within himself to care about breaking any rules or being anything but grateful that the orange lazy-ass had found a way to be useful to him. He’d have to start ordering them to spend more time alone together in places he couldn’t see. Stupid fucking kids, at least this way they’d be easier to be around more often though. Hopefully.


	3. How the tables have tabled.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since their last time and Sarge has had enough of pretenses. Sarge sends them off with little regard for how they see it and Grif gets suspicious, which leads to some interesting changes in situation with Simmons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the others, but we're getting to the end and I had some fun with this one. I really hope they didn't end up being OOC, I tried my best here to keep them in character but my fun may have gotten me too attached to certain things.

“The old man is setting us up for some stupid trap and I know it. Simmons, this is way too convenient! I mean, yeah, still get undressed, but I can’t be the only one who thinks this is weird. This is Sarge we’re talking about! Sarge of all people just yelled at us to basically go hide in the base a while so he can ‘get some goddamned peace of mind and hear his own thoughts for a change.’ I mean, yeah, you’ve been a wound-up, irritating jerk, but I still feel like it’s a trap. I have been the same stable level of passably lazy that I always am. I don’t know if I can properly masturbate knowing that crazy old bastard has it in for us sometime increasingly soon!”

Grif’s paranoia isn’t new, the guy might be lazy, but he had a sense of self-preservation that couldn’t be touched. Simmons had issues relaxing, but when he was given a gift he knew to take it and not ask questions. And regardless of what Grif thinks, he’s been as irritating a twat as Simmons this time. Grif irritates Sarge in a different way than Simmons, but Sarge can only withstand so much. Simmons would almost be tempted to indulge Grif and question some of Sarge’s motives, but hey, Grif’s face when he realized that Simmons was standing there masturbating while he stood around worrying would be hilarious. Oh, how the tables have tabled. The makings of a mischievous smirk wove its way onto Simmons’ face before he piped up. “Shut up, if you’re going to do something do it soon. We don’t want your crazy yelling to alert Sarge and have him storm in and catch us both literally with our pants down.”

Grif’s face was all betrayal and confusion, and seeing him this way meant that Simmons couldn’t keep himself from pressing his advantage. “You know, if you’re going to sit there with your mouth open, how about you come on over here and do something useful with it?" Simmons could almost not believe he’d just said that, but the raised eyebrows and perplexion on Grif was totally worth it. They’d spent too much time lately eavesdropping on the blues probably. That Tucker was constantly spouting lines, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get his ass beat more often. Then again, if Church was into it that might explain a few things.

Simmons was shaken from his reverie when Grif finally shrugged out of his confusion, shimmied out of the remainder of his clothes, and walked towards him. “Uhh, whatcha doing?” Was all Simmons’ could manage before the pulse in his blood that should have been in the head on his shoulders warning him that something weird was going on was currently flooded around his groin. The heat in his gut roiled so that he almost thought he might be ill, his chest was too tight and his breath came in shorter with every gasp. Grif stopped just short of touching him, but only by a hair’s breadth. Grif had taken to stroking himself a few steps from where he currently stood, continuing to work himself over as he leaned his face towards Simmons’ neck, where he let a hot breath ghost over the skin there.

If he had planned on saying anything, the heat thrumming through him right now rendered those words into the downright slutty moan that left him and tickled Simmons’ ear, where it made him shudder violently and start to groan wantonly. The compulsion to nibble on Simmons’ earlobe was almost overwhelming, but Grif stopped himself just short. Between the increasingly provocative noises dropping from his lips and the warm pressure the breath that came with it, Simmons was turning into a shaky, wrecked mess.

Simmons’ breathing grew more unstable by the second. The heat within his own body and the heat coming off of Grif were overwhelming him, every intake of fresh breath was sweltering and his head was light as a helium balloon. He threw his head back against the wall behind him and struggled to keep hold of his dick. He probably should have worried more about the issues he was having standing though. With every moan and breath his knees were getting weaker and soon he’d be sliding down the wall whether he wanted to or not. They had never touched each other, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He would definitely fall apart if Grif touched him right now. Grif’s knees were essentially becoming liquid where he stood, and the hand not wrapped around his cock flew out and landed on the wall next to Simmons’ hip. They were still not touching yet, but they had never been so close, and so naked, and getting themselves off, and Simmons apparently has a thing for Grif’s slutty moans because all of a sudden he’s in a full body orgasm, and the second spurt of cum lands on Grif’s stomach. This, this is what makes Grif lose it. All at once Grif’s neck loses all tension and his head droops, his chin suddenly almost resting on his chest and his eyelids are shut tight as his climax rocks through him. By the end of it they’re not sure whose jizz is on who, but Grif makes a move to lean on the wall next to Simmons and they slide down the wall almost in tandem. Each man turns his head to look at the other, and neither is sure what to say, but the goofy, peaceful grins on their faces are probably enough.

Grif’s gaze drops from where he’d been enjoying some stupid, sappy eye contact with Simmons, down his frame to admire the mess on his torso. The sight had him growing hard again already, and the sudden rush of heat through his cheeks and down his chest to flood around his hips where it settled in his groin brought forth a groan that managed to sound almost more annoyed than turned on. “Fuck, that’s hot. But I don’t know if I even have enough energy to beat off again right now.” He laughed stiltedly and leaned his head back against the wall again, finally able to tear his line of sight from the hot mess that Simmons currently was.

“I almost can’t believe that you’re so lazy you’re considering just sitting there hard again and not doing anything about it, but I feel like I should know better by now. I almost feel bad for you.”

“Yeah, well, that was pretty intense for me. I dunno about you, but that took it right out of me. It’s not my fault you look so sexy all covered in cum like that. You should probably clean yourself off so I can stop being turned on and clean myself up too.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to put the blame on me for your own boner! And the pressure to make me clean myself off first even though you like it doesn’t really make sense. You are such a lazy asshole.” Simmons lost some steam as he went on. “Rude.” dropped off as a totally incomplete thought as the gravity of the situation dawned on him and he began getting hard again as well. The rush of blood away from his brain made it hard to stay mad at Grif. “It was pretty intense for me too. I thought you were about to touch me so many times. It got me so worked up that I came way sooner than I expected.” Wow, word vomit much? That was absolutely not supposed to be said aloud. Was it too late to take it back? Yep, way too late. A sexy but devastatingly mischievous smirk played across Grif’s face and suddenly Simmons thought that while attractive, this didn’t bode so well for him right now.

Grif ambled to his feet and took his now entirely too firm cock in his hand and started to stroke himself roughly, all the while standing far too close to Simmons’ face. He leers down at the man below him and admires the puddles of cum smeared across his chest and the way his mouth had dropped open as he tried to catch his breath. Simmons’ hand, unbeknownst to him, had fallen to his crotch and he’d begun to squeeze long, fast strokes up and down his shaft before he realizes that he can’t take his eyes off the dick just inches away from his face. He keeps biting at his bottom lip and letting it slide out of his teeth before finally continuing to just stare open mouthed, unabashedly, as he pleasures himself.

Seeing Simmons lose all sense and reason that way is unbearable and Grif can almost feel the blood that isn’t flooded in his cock rush there, despite the fact that he’s already engorged to the point where it’s become painful already. He can feel his cock twitch involuntarily as he works himself into another intense orgasm. Simmons’ lips are so shiny and wet, they’d look so good wrapped around his dick and smeared in his cum. That’s the image that does it, the next thing he knows the breath is blown clean out of him and there’s cum all over Simmons’ face. It is absolutely even more satisfying than he thought it would be. There is peace in the universe, he’s pretty sure the war just ended and they’re about to go home to parades and his sister safe at home with pizza and oreos and cold beer waiting for them both. Fuck.

Simmons reaches climax just a moment later and it splatters all over his already messy torso. He is boneless and for about a full half a minute he is just so grateful that he was already seated before he comes to his sense again.

“What the fuck, fatass? You could have gotten that in my eyes, or my hair, and fuck that.” Simmons was in full on rant mode now. How he continued to yell, dig out a clean towel from the mess that was the storage room, and get clothes on all at the same time had to be some sort of awful super power. Grif tried to stop laughing long enough to lament that he didn’t get to admire the lovely decoration of Simmons’ face any longer, but he continued to chuckle regardless and figured he’d just have to make time to bitch about it later. That image was absolute spank bank material, and he blushed again just thinking of it. He shook his head roughly and made an effort to clean up and get dressed again as well. If they didn’t find something innocent to look like they were doing soon, they would definitely get in trouble.


	4. Murphy's Law In Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarge really doesn't want to have this conversation with anybody, but Donut existing means that his plans are not always going to work out as he'd like them to. He means well, he really does, but what can go wrong, will. And let's be real for a minute, this is Grif and Simmons. It wouldn't be their lives if something didn't go horribly wrong before the end of the story.

The rookie got on their nerves, it’s one of the few things they agree upon openly. They bickered and sometimes just made a show of arguing about stupid shit around other people, but as is the case with any pair of friends, there were just certain things they always agreed upon, and Donut was one of them. The kid talked about feelings all the time, and spouted innuendos and double entendres like they were going out of style, and nobody was sure if he knew he was doing it. Sarge was even uncomfortable about it, openly. Sarge made a practice of trying to appear as free from vulnerabilities and softer emotions as often as possible, but he couldn’t help but cringing when Donut spoke sometimes. He’d only been in Blood Gulch a little while so far, but the pink armor just made things worse, if possible. Sarge was constantly irritable, and so were Grif and Simmons. To make matters worse, Sarge was determined not to slip up again and let on that he knows what they do when they’re alone, and it had been impossible thus far to order the pair of them to do anything alone somewhere private, and to do so without making things weird and letting on that he knows anything. Sarge was increasingly positive that he would have to shoot one of his men soon, and at this point it was only the constant debate over who it would be most productive to kill that kept him from follow through.

The idea came to him and he almost wished he could clone himself just so that he could kiss himself, but this canyon didn’t need anymore fruitcakes, and honestly it seemed like a lot of things could go wrong. This was him getting sidetracked though, and this mission would require certain amounts of concentration and cunning that he hadn’t been required to use in a long time. The reds and blues both had just received supply drops, and thus his salvation came to him like divine inspiration. Order the idiot married couple to do inventory on their own drop while he and Donut spy on the blues. It gets better though, he’d sneak along one side of the canyon to get one angle and Donut would take the other side to catch glimpse of things he couldn’t see, and hear things he couldn’t from his angle. Who knows what awful advantageous things the blues could have received in that drop. They had to find out about it A.S.A.P. Totally valid justification to do the entire mission without having to spent a lot of time with the kid, and give the sexually frustrated wonder duo a chance to work their shit out. He really deserves a raise for this nonsense. He did not get paid enough for any of it, nor did he get enough respect, it was a downright indignity. Those two really should appreciate what he was giving them. He stormed off grumbling when his train of thought came to that point. They needed to get their shit together soon, or he was going to lose it and be forced to yell at them about it. He’d been avoiding this conversation so well for far too long to give up and start talking about it now. They had a really great thing going, not talking about it.  


“Honestly, that old coot is brilliant. I can’t believe he managed to account for time we get to spend alone behind closed doors, and he doesn’t even have to distract Donut personally while he does it either. It’s genius. Something has to go horrifically wrong, this is way too perfect. I just fucking know it.” Grif would later come to deeply regret saying this later. For now though, he couldn’t help marveling at the whole thing. He was also fairly confident that he’d never undressed so quickly in his life, nor had he ever seen Simmons strip so quickly. They stood a few inches from each other, with random pieces of clothing still half on. They’d been in too much a rush to get their hands on themselves to care.

They let their guard down and their gazes drop, eyes soaking in the other’s already rather undone state. Each man watched the way that the other grasped at himself and stroked himself into stupidity. They both went hard and rough and fast at first, working up to short breath and sweat dripping down their bodies before they simultaneously eased up into slower, relaxed, almost lazy strokes. They were so caught up in the luxury of it, they couldn’t help teasing themselves and the temptation to tease each other grew thick in the air. Simmons twisted his own nipple, and Grif fondled his balls in the most oddly arousing way. Their eyes darted all over each others bodies, looking for a sign that reaching out to touch would be okay, a sign that the other person was having as hard a time not just going for it as they were. They were both moaning uproariously, so absorbed in their moment together that their senses began to fail them. Tunnel vision took hold, all they could see was the other, if either had been capable of trying to think of where in the base they were right now, they would have had no idea, until a high pitched exclamation soaked in offense and surprise shocked them into letting go of themselves and turning to look for a way to dodge for cover. Before they could actually dip out of sight and actually recover some dignity the words began to sink in and they almost failed to understand anyway.

“I can’t believe you two never told me this was a group activity! Why would you leave me out?! I am so insulted right now. The cultures that I’ve heard practice this kind of thing say it is such good bonding for teams! We could be a much a tighter unit after this! You guys, we are gonna beat those blues breathless with our amazing teamwork now! Good thinking, you two!”

He’d been rambling, so they missed part of it, but with this much they got the gist of what he was getting at. This could not be happening right now.

“This isn’t a group bonding activity! This isn’t a group activity at all! This is a private moment! Get out of here, Donut!” Simmons screeched at him, mind still reeling. He struggled to wrap his head around the increasingly bizarre situation.

“Aren’t you supposed to be spying on the blues right now instead of harassing your obviously preoccupied teammates?! What the fuck, Donut?! Go fucking find Sarge, like ten minutes ago! Scram!” Grif could always be trusted to get to the important points when it really mattered. They needed to get this kid out of here, immediately. The mood was slipping through their fingers like dry sand through a clenched fist and this was a prime opportunity about to be fully wasted. This is not acceptable.

Donut blinked, shell shocked, but opened his mouth to start explaining that he had already been to the blue base and come back to try to find something else useful to do after finding out that there was nothing special in the blue’s drop, but another shocking development sprang into action before he could get the words out. Grif could only be a man of action when his personal interest was fully in it, and this was one of those moments. Partially flaccid cocks and dignity forgotten, Grif stormed forward, inspiring Simmons to follow suit, they each grabbed an arm and dragged Donut bodily from the room and slammed the door behind him.

He could hear something heavy shoved up against it. He harrumphed, because obviously their teamwork was pretty good in that moment, and he really had to be missing something. If it wasn’t a team activity, and they didn’t want him there it was, oh. Oh! How could he have missed it? He had such a good sense about these things normally, how did their relationship just go over his head like that? He’d even heard Tucker say something about it once, and it still just rolled off of him without sinking in or making any sense. He was still so taken aback and lost in his head he almost didn’t notice that he’d wandered away from base and nearly ran right into Sarge. His C.O. noticed his dazed state and guessed what must have happened right away.

“I told you to report back to me before heading back to the base for a reason, kiddo. I had hoped to avoid you finding out this way, or at all really. Sorry, Rookie. Come on, sit down with me near the tree over here in the shade. Just try to forget about what you saw or heard, just let them be and they’ll be a lot easier to be around. Trust me, son. I’m gonna just drop off for a short kip here, and I suggest you do the same.” Sarge led him to a nearby tree, sat down easily, and looked to be nodding off inside his suit.

He also hadn’t expected Sarge to react that way to such a thing. He had deeply miscalculated a lot about his new team. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad tour of duty after all. He’d just have to pay a lot better attention to everybody’s interactions later on, and think of a really good apology. They would definitely want to talk about it once they were in a decent state again, he was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked it! I've thought about writing something for once they actually get past their mental thing and they actually do touch each other for the first time, but I really liked the idea of ending things this way. If this is the worst ending and whatnot, just lemme know in the sweetest way possible and I may consider adding some other scenes. OR if it should be a different fic, I could maybe write a follow up, sequel-type thing. Thanks for reading!! You are beautiful people, truly. 
> 
> ALSO this didn't get read by a second person the way the others did, so if my editing leaves something to be desired, send me a message and I would be more than glad to fix it ASAP. Thank you!! <3


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